


Forget Me Not

by Myth_is_a_Mirror



Series: A Summer of Firsts [3]
Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Fates Tape, First Love, Kissing, Romantic Fluff, Shapeshifting, Sweet/Hot, What really happened?, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myth_is_a_Mirror/pseuds/Myth_is_a_Mirror
Summary: During harvesting season, the year before moving to Olympus, three very different gods arrive in Persephone's village. She wants to understand the curious desires they spark within her, turning the summer into one of many firsts.*Each part of series is standalone*Part 3: Hades sneaks onto Demeter’s estate and finds the last thing he expects - true love.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Series: A Summer of Firsts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555558
Comments: 38
Kudos: 178





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Song on Repeat: ["Mr Sandman"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DbPsIWto5PY) by SYML

She floated in the dark, as weightless as a feather. 

Wings instead of limbs, the breeze pushed her higher. Instead of struggling against it, she tipped sideways. 

She flew. 

The night sky dazzled. She’d waited until an hour past sunset to see its full glory.

Mortals told folk tales of the stars. The constellations were trapped gods or cosmic symbols or consequences of great adventures. Her favorite tale was a simpler one. Perhaps, the first one. 

The dark sky was a vast, thick veil. Each star a tiny pinprick in the cosmic fabric. Each pinprick the result of an act of great love. The light peeking through allowed mortals the briefest glimpse of the other side - a place of pure eternal light, where gods and heroes go to live again. And one day, with enough loving acts, all mankind would be made whole to it. The veil would fall.

 _I want that now_ , she thought, steadying her tiny body in the air. 

Unlike mortals, she knew the gods were real. She’d visited their home, even if she hadn’t made it hers. The twinkling, blue-black sky felt like a promise that something more loomed beyond the earth below, beyond the home of the gods, and into the unknown.

Or was it only a tale foolish girls told themselves when they lay on the ground, fingers skating over dew spotted grass, contemplating how small they were? Did she allow herself to get stuck between the ground and the sky, full of formless thoughts, too often? _Or not enough._

 _Too high!_ She’d lost sense of up from down, and her new wings ached.

She landed on unfurled flower petals with only the barest rustle, its pink hue a perfect camouflage. She’d whispered the night phlox into existence earlier for precisely this purpose. It only bloomed in the darkness. 

The honey almond sweetness sang to her. She took a long, draining sip, snapped her wings out wide, and expanded.

Persephone was a woman again. _Bringer of death._ Her new name didn’t sit right, but men called gods what they wanted. _I'm lucky to be noticed_ _at all._

She twisted, arms above her head, to relieve the strange sensation of changing forms. Discovering her ability to shift into a butterfly had been an accident that morning. But ever since she’d begun to floom blue flowers, her mother had become more concerned with her erratic powers. This transformation was Persephone’s little secret.

After gathering a small harvest of night phlox, she dressed in her draping gown and walked home. It would make a lovely gift of perfume for her mother, and perhaps the cook could help her bake it into a tasty treat.

As she crossed the kitchen garden, the strangest sensation washed over her, one she wouldn't have recognized until this summer. _Attraction._

Weeks ago, she’d begun to give life to baby pink butterflies in addition to her new ability to become one herself. Wandering over the fields and woods, her little minions sent back information from time to time.

Five of them crowded in the guest quarters, drawn to a scent she couldn’t quite understand. _Fresh dirt, sweet,_ _delicious_ _,_ they whispered in her mind. But it was a different voice that caused her to stop just before entering the kitchen door.

“I know what I saw.” Her mother’s most trusted assistant spoke, anxious. “A man climbed into that woman’s bedroom.”

 _A man in_ _…_ _Hecate’s bedroom? The guest quarters!_

“Perhaps he was invited,” the cook responded.

“Oh gods, you may be right.”

“Leave him be.” A pot clanked as the cook’s voice grew fainter, farther away. “They’ve only just finished the first course. Perhaps he's meant to be dessert.”

Persephone peeked in. 

“Ugh, you're right. I really don’t want to disrupt lady Demeter’s schedule.” Her mother’s assistant nodded and took a steaming dish in hand.

They walked towards the dining room with the second of five courses. After the meal, her mother would rope Hecate into a game of chess. In a few short hours, they would discover the man.

Her heart beat a frantic song. Little thought went into her next actions, only a clear instinct of what she should do. She scrawled a note for the cook. _Half the flowers are for you. I’m tired and gone to bed. Send apologies to mother and Hecate._

Persephone raced across the garden like the fates themselves were chasing her. The wind rushing past made her feel like her wings were still wide against the dark starry expanse. Upon reaching the stone wall of the guest quarters, she remembered she was only a woman. Rather than use the hallway and risk a servant seeing her, she climbed in through the window.

Her butterflies flew to her, singing a happy tune only she could hear. _See? He’s here._ They tittered. _Lovely._ _Delicious_ _. Beautiful._

Her mouth dropped open.

He was that and so much more. His large body sprawled open on the bed, a feast for the eyes. His skin gleamed like the deep blue sea draped in a loose, dark fabric. The scars criss-crossing his tall frame were like the light when caught underwater and the sun streams through in brilliant sparkling lines.

 _Does he smells clean, like a fresh salt breeze?_ She had to know. Creeping forward, she climbed in beside him on the low bed, not daring to touch him. 

She leaned close to where a wavy fall of hair covered his ear and breathed deep. An irrepressible sigh fell from her lips. _Silly butterflies._ He didn’t smell like fresh, sweet dirt. But he also didn’t smell like the sea.

He was a deep forest high on a snowy mountainside.

His breath rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm and the curving muscles seemed to beg for her touch. _Only the butterflies will touch you_ , she promised.

As if under her command they curled in flight towards the stranger. When one landed on his knee, she could feel a hint of his cool skin, the coarse hair of his leg. Others landed on a curl of hair, the tip of a toe, and a bent knuckle. When the smallest one landed on his nose, he flinched. 

A tremor shook his body, and he whimpered. His muscles jerked and shook as though trapped in a tiny space living the most terrible of nightmares. And then, the strangest thing happened.

He changed. 

She gasped as the colors changed and he struggled against invisible bonds, agonized. His skin morphed into the darkest midnight blue. Spots and clusters of lights erupted everywhere in chaotic patterns. His white hair shot through with the light of silver comets. It almost looked like…like…

He was not fresh tilled earth or the blue sea. He was not even a winter forest. 

He was the endless night sky, every star all at once. The strained form of this magnificent god seemed to contain all the brilliance of the cosmos.

And he was so very afraid.

Brows drawn tight, a terrible grimace tilted his previously peaceful mouth. He cried out again, an animal in a trap.

Nothing could have stopped her from comforting him. She closed the gap, molding her soft body to his larger one, and she looped an arm beneath his neck to cradle his head. The fingers of her free hand rubbed at the creases on his face, traveled over his brows, and cupped his cheek. His skin was cool and firm, but there was warmth underneath, a frantic, beating pulse. 

“Shhhhh, now. No nightmares, tonight.” She hummed a wordless song. “Shhhhh, you’re safe with me.”

Skin to skin and so close, contact with the lovely stranger sent sparks through her body. It was so much more intense than feeling him through the butterflies.

A holy light shimmered inside her, akin to the end of the dark season when she'd place her hand on the ground and sing to life the beginning of spring. 

On a harsh inhale, the stranger's gaze popped open to the ceiling. His glowing, flame-like red eyes had Persephone panicking. Some instinct of self defense engaged, and she transformed into a butterfly in an instant.

Even still, in that form, she was drawn to him. His smell _was_ different, and the cold energy held so tight within his spirit promised something dangerous. She landed on the edge of his eye which lazily blinked away the sleep. A single tear slipped between her insect legs and she couldn’t help but lean down to taste it, singing him a song only the smallest of creatures could have heard.

His glowing red eye, huge in her tiny form, rotated toward her. She flew back at the same moment he jerked up to a seated position. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Persephone said before remembering she was a swallowtail butterfly. She thought for sure he hadn’t heard her until his upper body twisted in her direction, where she floated at his eye level.

“A talking butterfly?” he murmured, then closed his eyes and fell back. “I’ve gone mad. What’s new?”

“Not mad.” Persephone giggled, flapping in pretty swirling circles. “I’m not a butterfly.”

“Riiiiight.” He chuckled and burrowed his head under a pillow. “Goodnight, cruel world.”

Annoyed, her wings fluttered. She twisted and popped, emerging again as a woman. 

“Look!” She threw her arms wide.

The stranger lifted up on an elbow. His scowl quickly fell to open mouthed shock.

She grinned in triumph. 

As his eyes trailed slowly down her body, she remembered that besides her knee-length hair, she was naked _._

“Eep!” Erupting in a full body flush, she quickly slipped the long, pink dress hanging off the bed back on.

“You’re so beautiful.” The man had a soft, dopey look on his face as he fell on his back, one arm crooked under his head to stare at her. “The most exquisite creature I’ve ever seen.”

Shocked, she couldn’t move.

“My dream is so nice tonight.” His grin widened, still staring at her with those dark eyes, the red slowly seeping away. “Soooooo nice.”

With no chairs in the room and nothing else to do, Persephone crept forward and sat beside him on the bed. He seemed to truly think this was all a dream. Yet, she was the one who’d fallen under his spell, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

“Come closer.” He held a hand, palm up toward her. 

She leaned down on her side at the edge of the bed. He rolled to face her, that dorky smile still pasted on his face. Though he wasn’t frightened in a nightmare anymore, she still felt a little guilty.

“I’m sorry I woke you. You just seemed so scared and your whole body turned dark, like a starry sky, I-”

“Oh dear.” He flinched and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Your...transformation.” She placed a palm on his cheek and his eyes opened, vulnerable like a child. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

His brows scrunched together in confusion followed by a grin as he booped her on the nose. “Seeeee. That’s how I know you’re a dream. My true form is hideous.” He blinked several times and glanced around the room. “I usually wake up once I know it’s a dream, especially a good one. Man...I must be really tired.”

“You’re not in a dream, mister.”

“Okay, then. I should test that assertion.” His smile grew wolfish. “Will you give me a kiss, fair maiden?”

“No.” She avoided his gaze, instead her eyes followed the path of one long scar from his shoulder down to his abdomen. _So lovely._ She wished she _could_ kiss him, but he'd not come to the mortal realm and climbed into this room for her.

“And why not?” He shuffled forward, no more than an inch, but it charged the air between with intimate energy.

Persephone looked straight in his eyes. “You love Hecate.”

“Of course I do.” He cocked his head, causing his lovely hair to shift forward over one eye. “She’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend...” Not realizing her fingers had been tracing over the long scar, she pulled her hand back. If Hecate was only a friend, perhaps a kiss was not a bad idea. _Just ask, girl_. “She’s not your lover?”

The hulking man rolled on his back with a shout of laughter so loud, she was sure any servants still in the building would have heard. 

She slapped a hand over his mouth to quiet him. He turned back to her, tears streaming down his face until he’d lost his own breath from laughing. Her hand fell away, fingers gliding over his collarbone. On an annoyed huff at her inability to keep her hands to herself, she dropped her fingers to the bedspread, where they kept busy picking at an undone thread. _Stop touching him. You don’t even know his name._

“Oh fates, I haven’t laughed that hard in years.” He shook his head and blinked slow, then leaned closer to rest a heavy palm over on her cheek. “To answer your question, no. Hecate is not my lover.” The smile crept over his face again, as though the words themselves could not be said without laughing.

“Oh.” Her head shifted so she could run her lips over the heel of his hand, causing another whiff of that rich pine forest smell to fill her lungs. She sighed.

“You could be my lover though." He audibly gulped. "If I was the luckiest of gods, and probably then only in my very wildest and loveliest dreams.” His finger ghosted over her bottom lip as she watched him from the corner of her eye. His eyes stayed trained on her mouth and his finger, whispering, “Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up.”

Nothing could convince him she wasn't some kind of phantom of his imagination. _What a silly idea._ Sacred virginity was her destiny, not that her explorations with men lately showed evidence of her body’s commitment to the course.

“So you don’t mind that I held you while you slept?” she asked.

“Hold me again, and see if I mind.” His breaths came fast, eyes hungry.

She inched closer until they were nose to nose. His hand moved from her cheek to the one still fidgeting on the bedspread and brought it to his mouth. Not even kissing, he simply rubbed his lips over the knuckles and took a deep breath in.

“You smell like midnight candy.”

She grinned at the common name for night phlox. “I harvested some earlier. It’s very sweet.”

“Like you.” His nose nudged at the side of her face, to turn her to the ceiling, and he took a deep inhale at her temple. It was where her hair curled behind an ear, the same place she’d smelled him. His hand pushed the strap of her dress to the end of her shoulder and lightly brushed his fingers along her skin, up her neck to her jaw and back down the end of her collarbone.

The tickle of his breath raised the hairs on her arms, and she brought both around him. One arm slid back under his neck, and the other draped over his wide shoulder. Her fingertips curled into the hair at the nape of his neck then traced down the bumps of his spine.

“Oh, but you smell good.” He kissed her earlobe, dragging lips down the line of her neck. “Your touch is a whisper of silk.”

When he pulled back, her mouth dropped open on impatient breaths. She was held prisoner by those swirling, cosmic eyes. No red, just darkness with a hint of faraway stars. He seemed to study her with the same look of appreciation.

Persephone followed her instincts. They’d never led her wrong. She pressed her lips against the tip of his nose. A quick peck. 

His eyes rounded, disbelieving and wondrous. In the silence that followed, she grew nervous. Embarrassed.

“You asked for a kiss,” she murmured and chewed her lip.

His breath escaped in a rush as he held her jaw tenderly. “I didn’t think to ask for more.”

He watched her face, searching her eyes for something. _What did he see that kept him so enraptured?_

Persephone grew bold, climbing half on top of him and caging him in with her hands. Her heaving chest pressed against his cooler skin. They shared heated, panting breaths as she held her face just above him.

“What if I asked for more?” She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth.

“I would happily oblige.” His lips said, the words barely registering in her touch starved brain, imagining all the things she wanted to do with this man. But she’d start slow.

“A kiss, then.” Her breath was little more than a whisper.

“Just a kiss?”

She didn’t have the sense to answer. Instead, her lips pressed against his, a teasing question. He drew up, sipping at her. The kiss was soft, so very soft for a man so large, and she could almost feel the tense desire within him to push for more. 

“You taste like honey,” he murmured, tilting his head to kiss her deeper, pulling at her lips with insistence.

Gods, he did too, but words escaped her. She licked her tongue against the seam of his mouth. On an exhale, he opened for her like a floodgate. Intense energy crackled over them, and again the sensation that she was expanding, growing from the inside out washed over her.

Large hands skimmed down her arms, then back up, one tangling in her hair while the other pressed her tight against him by the small of her back.

Her fingers grasped at the meat of his chest, feeling the raised bumps of those old, beautiful scars. If she could just burrow close enough, this sensation he sparked in her would make sense.

“You make me feel so good.” The words croaked out of her. He made everything right. All the longing and worry seemed to fall away under his attention. This was more than sensation. It was a bone deep affinity. Like to like.

“Sweetheart. Dream girl. Lovely one.” He whispered a dozen endearments between peppering kisses along her neck and jaw. Each one made her melt further against him. His mouth fell to her ear and bit softly on an earlobe. 

Their kisses grew fevered, warm and wet. She was in ecstasy and agony as she sought the depth of their connection. Never finding it, she fell deeper, scrabbled for purchased, gasped for air.

“Your hair!” Blushing, he pulled back and looked at his leg where a thick pink lock had twined around his knee to pull it closer. A repressed smile danced at his kiss swollen lips. “I think it likes me.”

 _Fates!_ That was the distraction she needed. Persephone tugged the hair free and collapsed on her back. _Too high. Too fast._ She trusted her instincts, but her mother had always warned her - _impulse was the enemy of success_. And gods, she wanted to succeed with him. After a couple deep breaths, she turned back to him. And still, he watched her. Amused, innocent wonder lit his eyes.

As silence stretched between them, she imagined ages could pass and they wouldn’t need to speak. They could understand each other, find peace in their opposites and passion in their togetherness. And words? She wondered if they needed them at all.

 _Silly girl,_ her inner critic chimed in. _You are getting way too ahead of yourself._

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“No, no, no. I know that trick.” He leaned in, eyes closing on slow blinks as his nose grazed back and forth over hers, his hand reaching to cup the back of her neck. “If I tell you my name, I’ll wake up. Not on your life. I’m not going anywhere. This dream will last an eternity if I have anything to say about it.”

She smiled. After all this, he still believed he was dreaming. “Well then, I suppose you don’t deserve my name.”

“I already know it.”

She leaned back. _Surely not._

He smiled at her dismay. “You are something new, a creature beyond my imagination entirely.” 

“My name is not creature, sir.”

He twirled a lengthening lock of hair in his finger. Picking up a blue petal, he rubbed it against his lips. “You are the soul of sweetness itself.”

She grinned.

“That smile.” He traced a line up her nose. “You do something to me.”

He did something to her as well. Blue flowers and pink petals littered the bedspread. He picked another one up and studied it carefully. The flowers, the butterflies, there had to be a reason for it all. She just needed to figure it out.

“It’s a forget-me-not. They’re small flowers...” She trailed off, not wanting to ramble and seem stupid. The words sounded stale, not at all what she wanted to say.

“It doesn’t matter if this is the hallucination of a tired mind at sleep, sweetness. I could never forget you.” He brushed the hair from her eyes, scoring his nails across her scalp. That dopey smile returned. “You’re the girl of my dreams.”

A key turned inside her, unlocking something frightening and fragile all at once, the first notes of a song she didn’t know the words to. _Who is he and what does he mean to me?_ Imposing and lonely but so tender and hopeful. 

“Why did you come to visit Hecate?”

“I was going to ask her to help me find someone to...” He stopped, eyes darting across her face with a serious expression.

“Who?”

He stared at her a long moment, opening his mouth twice before speaking again. “I want to marry.”

Her heart dropped, then the sensation of feeling weightless and flying took its place. She was to be an eternal maiden, but in the face of a man like this, she might reconsider. And he was...they...fit together so well.

She snuggled closer, her body sending signals her mind wasn’t ready to accept.

“I’m tired of being alone.” His kissed the tip of her chin.

“Disconnected,” she murmured, watching his eyes dance.

“Misunderstood,” he breathed.

“Tired.”

“If you were real, I’d ask you.” He kissed her knuckles again. “In an instant.”

“Who says I'm not real, you blue scoundrel?” _Marriage?_ They didn’t even know each other's names. It was a ridiculous thing to say.

“Little goddess, I could make you want to get married.” He looked closer at her hands, unfurling her fingers to see her rough palms. “You work hard for someone so young."

She may not have the prettiest hands, but they did the work no one else could. “I help things grow.”

“And who helps you?”

She swallowed. Her mother directed the nymphs, but much of the work fell to Persephone. Willingly, wasn’t it? She liked to stay busy, create things from scratch, make the world wild every spring.

“It's my job.”

“I know what that's like. But, at least with growing things, it’s good to let the ground rest. Take a break.”

“I’m taking a break with you, aren’t I?” She interlaced their fingers together and skated her thumb over the soft flesh of his royal blue skin.

“I can see you’re tired.” He watched the tiny movement of her thumb. “Even if it means an end to the dream, I’m happy to be someone you could lay down and rest with.”

Tears smarted in her eyes. _Someone to rest with? That sounds nice._

She’d chased pleasure all summer while watching her new powers strengthen, but the days grew short and the north wind cold. Leaves turned red and rust colored. When all the autumn colors fell to the ground, the long nights began.

A chill danced through her body from the tips of her fingers where they touched, down through her chest, all the way to the end of her toes. This new sensation, a connection, shimmered and writhed within her. A promise of pleasure. Comfort. Surrender. _Let it come,_ she wanted to say. 

Her butterflies fluttered down upon the man’s head. A crown for a fragile king. His eyes crossed as he looked up at them and laughed.

A butterfly was the magic meeting of a flower petal and a bird. First, they crawled many-limbed to a cocoon. Then, sleep and rebirth led to purposeful flight. Life from death. 

As her eyelids fluttered closed in the hazy start to a peaceful slumber, she felt sure of one thing. 

Him.

This god with a secret name was the winter, the deep blue sea, and a mountain forest all at once. Above and beyond it all, he was the vast night sky. With him, she knew she could rest, that her spark of life had found its home, its mirror image.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes the happy/squishy ending.
> 
> The epilogue below is a feeble attempt to stay close to canon and explain Hades memory loss and Persephone's reluctance to bring their meeting up. This was inspired by Lore Olympus Chapter 72 and 76 and older sketches Rachel Smythe made of Persephone transforming into a butterfly.


	2. Chapter 2

**EPILOGUE**

Aphrodite surveyed the torch lit room with barely concealed boredom. Pink and blue skin entwined in slumber. Flowers everywhere. _What a mess._

“Why am I here again?” She turned to the other two goddesses.

Demeter’s eyes narrowed on a harsh whisper. “Hecate can work with memories, but matters of the heart are your domain. I need to be sure this night is forgotten, entirely.”

 _Love is my domain_ , Aphrodite thought but had no desire to argue. She was on Demeter’s good side and intended to stay that way. Coming to the mortal realm in the middle of the night was an effort to get a favor from the powerful goddess. Those were better than currency in her estimation.

“I don’t want to do this.” Hecate crossed her arms. “Although I take partial responsibility for this situation.”

“My daughter is eighteen years old. _Eighteen_.” The last word Demeter said through clenched teeth.

Now that Aphrodite sympathized with. Hades was two millennia old with enough baggage to fill an airport terminal. If he’d taken advantage of one her daughters that young, Aphrodite would have just had Ares murder him. Though, despite Demeter’s conclusion, she doubted that’s what had happened here. The two gods slept, clothed, comfortably entwined, fingers linked together. Their cheeks were touching for fates sake. It was honestly kind of cute.

Demeter pointed to Hecate. “I want everything erased from the moment Persephone came in the room. I’ll fill in the gaps for her. For him, the same. He probably won’t remember anything considering his drinking habits.” 

_Drunk? Maybe drunk in love._

Turning to Aphrodite, Demeter lifted an eyebrow. “I need you to double check the work, especially concerning any...pleasurable experiences they may have felt.”

Hecate’s teeth ground together, likely from the assertion that her witchy ways needed double checking.

“Erasing pleasure is not really my vibe, D.” Aphrodite's lip curled as she picked at her nails.

“I’ll owe you one. Both of you.” 

“Are you sure you want to go down this road?” Hecate stepped up to the sleeping couple and gently brushed Persephone’s hair from her brow. “We can erase memories, but fate always keeps the score.”

“Yeah, this feels…” Aphrodite gestured to the petals and butterflies. “Inevitable.”

The energy in the room darkened, causing Aphrodite to shrink in on herself.

“She's my daughter. I would do anything to protect her.” Demeter’s eyes blazed red. “Do it.”

* * *

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Persephone looked around the guest room, Hecate’s room, and her mind grew fuzzy. A man had been there, she was sure of it. The butterflies had told her, and she’d heard that conversation at the kitchen. _Why is my head pounding?_

She turned searching eyes on her mother who bustled about the room, brushing wilted petals to the floor and laying down fresh mats over the mess.

“Where is he?” Persephone’s throat was parched, and her stomach rumbled.

“You found Hecate’s guest and fell asleep.” Her mother wouldn’t look at her. 

It was all a haze, but she remembered blue skin, the fresh smell of him, and most of all, those large, sweet eyes.

“Where did he go?” She sat up in bed, placing her feet on the floor to feel the grounding coolness.

“Away. Hecate too. They won’t be back.” 

Persephone’s heart squeezed. _They'd left so soon. Why? It had to be her fault, her mother’s fear of men._ She stood up and walked to the window she remembered climbing through, then back at her mother. 

Ageless for two millennia, somehow her eyes looked so tired.

“Who was he?”

“Death itself.” Demeter’s face went hard. Angry. “The Unseen one.” 

_Could it be?_

Her mother roughly folded fabric and put everything in order, but Persephone caught the soft admission of a name from her lips. “Hades.”

“He was…” _The_ _King_ _of the Underworld._ Persephone swallowed, wishing she remembered more beyond the barest scraps of feeling. “He was nice, mama.”

Demeter’s shoulders shook. She was crying but trying not to let on.

“Are you upset with me?” Persephone moved to hug her mother.

“No, sweetheart.” Demeter smoothed Persephone’s hair down both sides of her face, as she’d done since childhood. The strangest expression crossed her face, sad eyes and a forced smile. “In fact, I’m working on a present for you…

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my stuff, subscribe here on AO3. I’m also on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/mythisamirror/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mythisamirror) if you want more updates and thirsty content. I’d love to hear from you any which way :)
> 
> Important disclaimer: The characters and world utilized in this are all property of Rachel Smythe. Any similarity between this fan fiction and Lore Olympus is due to common source material, in the form of Greek myths, or pure coincidence. This is a love letter to Rachel Smythe's body of work, and she retains all rights to the characters and world.


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